Chapter 4 - The Uncle's Move
The fragile peace inside the Vault shattered on the tenth day. Marco burst into the tactical war room, his face pale, holding a secure satellite phone.
"It's Rocco," Marco announced, the entire room of hardened criminals falling dead silent. "He found the safe house where we hid the loyalist families. He has them surrounded."
Dante stood up from the map table, the muscles in his jaw clenching so tightly I thought they might snap. "How many families?"
"Twelve," Marco replied, his voice tight. "Women and children. Rocco sent a message. He says if you don't surrender yourself at the Detroit docks by midnight, he will burn the safe house to the ground."
The room erupted into chaos. Lieutenants shouted for an immediate, full-scale assault on the city house. Men slammed their fists on the table, demanding blood.
"Quiet!" Dante roared, slamming his own hand down. The room instantly silenced. He looked at the map, his mind working with terrifying, lethal speed. "Rocco controls the docks. If we walk in there, it's a slaughter. He'll have snipers on every crane. He wants to draw us out."
"We can't just leave them, Boss," Marco pleaded.
I stepped forward, moving past the heavily armed men to stand directly beside Dante. "Where is the safe house?" I asked.
Marco pointed to a blinking red dot on the map, located in a dense, industrial sector of Detroit. "Here. The old ironworks district. It's a maze of narrow streets and abandoned factories."
I stared at the map. My six years at the Detroit trauma center hadn't just taught me how to extract bullets; it had taught me the geography of the city's underbelly. I knew the routes the ambulances took to avoid gang blockades. I knew the service tunnels beneath the old industrial sector because a homeless patient had once drawn me a map of them.
"I know a way in," I said, my voice cutting through the tension.
Dante turned to me, his brow furrowed in disbelief. "What are you talking about?"
"The old ironworks district sits on top of a network of prohibition-era smuggling tunnels," I explained, tracing a line on the digital map. "They connect to the storm drains that empty out three miles south of the docks. Rocco has the streets locked down, but he doesn't know about the tunnels. I can guide a strike team in directly underneath the safe house."
Dante stared at me, a mixture of shock and profound admiration warring in his dark eyes. "It's too dangerous. I am not putting you in the field, Mara."
"You don't have a choice," I countered, crossing my arms. "You don't know the entry points. I do. If you want to save those families, you have to let me lead the infiltration team."
Dante looked around the room at his four hundred and twenty loyal men, then back to me. He stepped closer, lowering his voice so only I could hear. "If anything happens to you out there, I will burn this entire city to ash."
"Then you better make sure your men keep up with me," I whispered back.
The preparation was frantic and precise. I stripped off my comfortable sweaters and donned tactical black gear, strapping a Kevlar vest over my chest. Dante, refusing to let me go alone despite his healing shoulder, armed himself heavily.
As we boarded the stealth transport vehicles, Luca ran up to me, pressing his battered stuffed wolf into my hands. "Bring my dad back," the seven-year-old boy pleaded, his lips trembling.
May you like
"I promise, Luca," I said, tucking the wolf into my tactical rig.
We were no longer a doctor and a patient. We were an army, moving in the shadows, preparing to strike the heart of the man who had tried to take everything from us.
